Fictive Poem By A Fictive Poet In A Fictive Novel

From the manuscript of an unsusccessful novel,

that now occupies, in my memory, a rather narrow hovel:


You murdered someone.  Yet, you continue to live---

imprisoned for life, no death penalty

(although its legal availability

was there; the judge's choice mystifies me).

Perhaps, though, one of your neighbors will give

a sudden shove to a well-sharpened shiv,

and launch your soul into the hell of agony

in which it will spend its entire eternity.


Starward

Author's Notes/Comments: 

For the sake of prudence, I should admit that this is a fragment from a novel I attempted during my adolescence, sometime between summer of 1971 and October 12th, 1975.  Working on the conclusion first, the poet-detective in my tale solved the murder mystery successfully, but believed the judge had betrayed the case by imposing a life sentence rather than the death penalty.  That seemed to be a common experience in our vicinity during the seventies.

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